


Through the Walls

by fluffyxcloud



Category: Beast (Band), Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Junhyung is voyeuristic, M/M, for my dear priya, gdragon is a tease, nothing like a good wank to wish you happy holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:12:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffyxcloud/pseuds/fluffyxcloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Junhyung is pleasantly surprised when GD begins changing with the door open.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Walls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justcallmepriya](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=justcallmepriya).



The dressing room was right next door. 

If that wasn’t enough torment, the door was wide open, exposing you mid-costume change. The shirt’s zipper tangled into your stiffly hairsprayed due and you cursed while struggling with the metal teeth. I contemplated going over to help you, but a cordinoona was swift to your rescue. She used small, soft hands to pick your hair from the unforgiving clutches of the fashion monstrosity. Not that you didn’t look good. The latest trend you were rocking was often compared with various sweets. Fun and light for the younger audiences, crazy and off-beat for the teens…dangerously seductive for the older fans. 

I can’t lie that I belong as an enthusiastic member of the last group. You looked like melted ice cream and I easily found my imagination engaging in the overused cliché that ice cream often incites. You deserve a better analogy—someone as wild as you deserves a master to craft a written piece as desperately unique as you. But even that wish is clichéd, and I feel like crawling back into a classroom to properly learn how to write. Only you make me lose my arrogance, and I must confess I find the loss addicting. 

Either way, you were in the dressing room right next door and I could see you, hair thus freed, tugging the overalls down over slender hips, wiggling sinfully as the material caught at your narrow hipbones. I tried to remain naturally distracted as my eyes devoured the creamy swell of your thighs, the strong clench of your calves as you balanced on a foot to remove the legs. From that distance I couldn’t see the soft strands of hair I knew must caress your skin, but my focus wasn’t on the small details so much as the big picture. Why you’d chosen to undress with the door wide open was a mystery since you recently scorned your bandmate for his inattention to public decorum. Any moment now someone could walk by and catch an eyeful of your nakedness. 

It was the razor’s edge for me. Alert you to a potential audience or feast on the meal you’ve presented to me unwittingly? I, who to everyone is absolutely off the market. And it’s true. But you’ve never fit into the mold and I wasn’t about to go around inviting trouble. You threw the blue overalls carelessly over your shoulder and straightened out, skin sliding over stomach muscles and baring the ribcage that protects your heart. I imagined peeling the skin away, pushing my fingers between the delicate bones and grasping your wet heart. Would it thrum against my hand like a pulse or flutter rapid sixteenth notes against my palm? Could it make you stare at me with the burning intensity you focus on your keyboard? 

The black underwear protecting your most desirable assets did little to deter my imagination. I stared through lowered lashes at the cotton material stretched low across your hips. It would be so easy to pull them off, tug them down to lie crumpled at your ankles. I crossed my legs, clenching thighs teasing the evidence of my desire. I allowed myself to pretend. 

Then the cordinoona leaves. You’re alone. Not for long, I know, but a closed door is as much a refusal as any. I take the chance and leap to my feet, striding across the hallway in three large steps. You look up, surprised. “Jun,” you grin widely, small teeth glinting under florescent lights. 

I don’t care about your shock. I shut the door behind me, flipping the lock. You scowl curiously and I’m quick to close the distance, pressing against your chest until you move backward, stumbling clumsily against the chair and falling into it. Eyes blown open, you stare at me and I take in the lewd image you gift me. Head thrown against the chair, legs spread wide, underwear straining at the tension. Your arms flung over the sides like a cut-stringed puppet. You don’t say anything, because I don’t know what you’d say. 

Whatever I want, I suppose. “Fuck,” you bite into lipstick stained teeth because it turns me on when you cuss. Your brow is still damp from the performance. I’m rather immaculate since I’m just here for support. I allow this to become my performance. I smirk at the audience and kneel in thanks. In prayer. You pant before I touch you and the desire to have you on my tongue hastens my actions. 

My knees dig into the carpeted floor but don’t hurt, and I rest against my heels as my hands find purchase in the waistband of your underwear. I should have kissed you. Too late, my mouth waters for you against my tongue and there’s always time to redo it correctly later. My fingers tug the underwear down and you lift your hips to help me. I allow the discarded cotton to lie at your ankles the way I wanted them to. Then I focus on more important matters. You’re half hard already and from my periphery I can see you staring intently at me staring at your cock. I lean forward, hands coming up to rest on your bony knees. You let out a whimper and my wet breath ghosts across your hardened flesh. 

I delve in, lapping gently at your head. You force in a breath. Your hips push up against my lips and I’m too desperate to taste you for playing. I bob my head down, wrapping around your head and tasting slick salt on my tongue. I suck you fast, slow, bobbing my head enthusiastically on your cock as you wrap your hands in my hair and begin guiding my actions. I’m eager to surrender control. I want what you want. The desire to please is addicting. 

My jaw stings as I lave at your cock, sucking and licking as you dictate my actions with strong fingers. My own fingers dig into the skin on your knees—payment for what will happen to mine from kneeling so long. You’re quiet and I didn’t expect it. No, no you’re not quiet. I like it better when you make noise. Always making noise, you can’t bear to be anything but the center of attention. So now you’re leaking moans, muttered curses dropping honey from your lips. Is this how you write music? Drooling lusty lines onto compositions in the dead of night? Who else’s mouth do you fuck? No, focus on pleasing and forget the rest. You want me. You think of me and my mouth and you shudder, fucking my mouth erratically before you cum. I drink it, savor it. 

As I pull away you tug me up, over your naked chest and crush my mouth in a kiss. Your tongue memorizes my mouth and I drown in yours. Your hands slide under my shirt and waistband. You don’t seem like one to waste time. Slender fingers grip my erection and I moan pathetically. You say nothing, I don’t know what you say and I don’t have the mind for it now, and begin to please me just how I like it. You don’t waste time and I’m already on the brink. It’s embarrassingly fast but I come at your handling within a few minutes. My body is burning and I’m drunk on you, leaning in to slide my tongue back into its proper mouth (yours) and the ache of coming settles into my bones. 

You laugh brightly and the sound is so jarringly out of place. 

I opened my eyes. I was sitting in the chair across the room. You were dressed, and how did that happen? As you walked into the hallway you caught my eye and smiled in recognition. 

“’Sup, Jun,” you greeted, waving casually. You made it seem easy and yet I never know what you’d say. I smiled hello and when you left I took a breath to assess the damage. I came judging by the sticky evidence on my jeans. You never touched me and I came. The thought was incredibly erotic and in that moment I decided to come back the next weekend. 

So here I am. You’re in the next room. The door is closed but it won’t stop me. I can just as easily lose control hearing your body move through the walls.

**Author's Note:**

> So if you can't tell, the switching of tense halfway was not me being lazy, but instead indicating Junhyung imagining the events instead of living them... Please let me know if that was too confusing so I can change it! ^ ^ This is all rather experimental of me. (Song title inspired by Neon Trees)


End file.
